Nostalgia
by Whimsical Juju
Summary: An American, an Aussie and a Brit walk into a bar...


An American, an Aussie and a Brit walk into a bar...

**(Cypher, Midnight and Jayhawk)**

**(Hurt/Comfort)  
**

Sitting at the bar, downing drink after drink, didn't make it any easier to forget the pain of losing so many team mates in one hit. Waking up to find the men they'd spent countless weeks training, eating, sleeping and _fighting_ beside dead. And not a damn thing in the world could change that sad fact. But worse than the death was the betrayal. In their line of work, death was inevitable. It was always around the corner, a shadow waiting to lash out and drag you down, usually in the most horrific and violent ways.

But _betrayal_... that was a whole different level. The boys of the Task Force 141 did not, under any circumstances, betray each other. But with the news of their Commanding Officer's defection from the 141 alongside his old team leader and the murder of General Shepherd, it didn't take much imagination to connect the dots. What took imagination was that it was _Captain John MacTavish_ who killed him.

Captain MacTavish, the man who fearlessly lead them through fire and flames, dragging their sorry arses out of hell time and time again. The man who'd lead his team through Brazilian markets overrun by militia and gotten (most of) them out alive, despite the odds. Who'd refused to leave the newbie at the hands of the same militia, taking every precious second he could to give Roach more time to reach the Pave Low, and then getting them all out safely.

Captain MacTavish, the man who gave every mission everything he had, the man who would take a bullet for his men any day of the week.

At least, that was the MacTavish they thought they knew.

Cypher groaned, downing another shot in an attempt to remove all the thoughts clouding his mind.

"Hey mate, mind if we join ya?" The Australian accent cut through the haze in Cyphers' mind. He looked blearily at the two other men, two other survivors of the Task Force 141. Their faces took a moment to register, but when they did Cypher sat a little straighter and muttered a slightly slurred "Yeah, sure."

Midnight and Jayhawk sat on either side of their drunk comrade and ordered themselves a few drinks.

"Been pretty crazy this last week, hasn't it?" Jayhawk murmured, staring at his drink as though it held all the answers. Cypher gave a weak nod and Midnight simply grunted. Silence full upon the trio again. Jayhawk sighed.

"Come on guys, don't go quiet on me," Jayhawk pleaded. Two sets of eyes looked up at him, one pair blue, on pair brown.

"Well what the bloody hell do you want us to say? You're right. The week's been crazy. Bat-shit crazy. We've lost pretty much everyone who went with the Captain and Ghost. Not to mention MacTavish pissed off with old mate, and now everyone's going through bloody interrogation because those idiot higher-ups think we were in on everything." Midnight drawled, his Australian accent colouring his words.

"Can't believe MacTavish would do that though. I mean... It's MacTavish, you know?" Cypher slurred, swaying in his seat a bit. His two friends on either side steadied him. "He'd never kill Shepherd, even if he was a dick. MacTavish just wasn't the sort to go offing an ally. Ghost, maybe. But not MacTavish." Cypher announced firmly. Midnight chuckled at the mention of their lieutenant.

"You just didn't like Ghost because of that one time he dropped a snake in your tent." Jayhawk snickered. Cypher reddened, but didn't say anything.

They all knew he'd started it by turning the skull design on Ghost's balaclava fluorescent pink.

"But you're right, mate," Jayhawk continued, "It was pretty out of character for the Captain to turn on Shepherd like that." Midnight nodded.

"Remember that time Coma was running from those angry women and run straight into a bloody low hanging beam?" Midnight mused, a grin slipping across his face. A similar grin seeped over the other two face beside him.

"Yeah, the idiot managed to concuss himself and MacTavish had to drag him to the LZ," Jayhawk chipped in.

"What the bloody hell'd he do to piss off those women anyway?"

"Well, apparently the idiot thought he'd cut through someone's yard and ended up falling straight into a chicken coop, and broke the gate getting out." Cypher answered wryly. The three men laughed at Comas' expense. The laughter died down quickly though; Coma was one of the men killed in the Caucasus Mountains.

"You know," Cypher began slowly, "The one-four-one probably won't be around for much longer."

"Not after this mess," Midnight added dully.

"So, I propose a toast." Cypher announced. Even if he was drunk, he wasn't so far gone that he couldn't do that.

"Sure. But what's there to toast to, exactly?" Jayhawk inquired sullenly. Cypher raised his glass.

"To us."

Midnight and Jayhawk looked at each other and shrugged.

"To us," they agreed.

**Feedback would be very much appreciated :)**


End file.
